


Residuum

by sizhu



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 13:12:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sizhu/pseuds/sizhu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a general rule of thumb that you were safer in smaller groups. Except inside the dome. The Purity wage genocide against the Vandiri, the Infected, after a century of post-war tensions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is much exposition and Tsuna was once a street kid.

The world was no longer what people hoped it would be, dreamt it would be. The world of society’s dreams never came to fruition. It was nipped in the bud before it even had the chance to bloom. Society had a war. Looking back, it seemed petty and easily resolvable. But, isn’t that how most conflicts seem in the end? Petty and fixable?

A weapon had been developed that was supposed to shock and awe human population but leave the land relatively safe – nothing at all like the all-out devastation of atomic weaponry. That was the theory, of course. Theory never quite worked out well in practice, nearly any scientist can tell you that.

Sure, the land was safe, but the environment was left changed. Humans are delicate, sensitive creatures that, contrary to popular belief, tend not to adapt well to change they can’t work with. When the new enviro-safe bombs went off, people were both killed and _infected_. The very air around those areas spread the infection.

Few cities survived and erected bubble-like domes over their perimeters to protect themselves from the contaminated land beyond their walls. These few cities were quickly overpopulated with evacuees and refugees from the warzones. Except, many of these refugees were infected. And the infection, back in the early days, was believed contagious. It still is, in fact, in the poorer areas of the cities.

The infection led to both death and _change_. The progenitors were unstable, often half-changed. They still functioned well enough as people, but they were mentally unstable, and upsetting and Infected could lead to dangerous [not contagious] injuries. So, the Infected were sent outside the walls. No pretty words eased their minds: “You are Infected. You cannot stay within these walls while we have no antidote for this Infection.”

Thus, the ones that escaped infection were safe and secure in their sterilized bubble and the ones unfortunate enough to be caught in the infection were sent away without so much as an IOU. And that was how it was.

For all of a hundred years. In a hundred years, the rift between the pure and the Infected grew exponentially. The humans that remained pure were still terrified, hiding in their sterile bubble, while the Infected roamed the unpopulated hinterlands, few and far between as those that didn’t die off preferred the solitary life over huddling in groups waiting for the next “cleansing sweep.”

It was a general rule of thumb that you were safer in smaller groups because you couldn’t be found as easily when the Cleansing came through. It was also a general rule that if the Sentinel caught you in groups larger than four, he would disperse you with violence.

The Sentinel was something of a mystery. No one knew his origin, nor stayed around long enough to get a good look at him. Most knew him as a flurry of feathers and talons, an occasional glimmer of teeth, not much more. The Sentinel was rigid in his execution of dispersing those that risked too many Infected together. But, he was merciful in his own right, no Infected died under his treatment. In fact, when the Sentinel came to be, the death rate of the Infected dropped.

The Infected knew him well, even if they didn’t see him. He was their silent guardian, keeping them alive and gaining little to nothing in return – not that he could ask for it, even if he wanted to. The Sentinel had long since lost the ability called ‘human speech.’

To the Purity, the Sentinel was an obstacle. With more Infected surviving, the Purity couldn’t risk reclaiming the lands they’d lost centuries ago. They were too afraid of those bearing traits of infection. (They know nothing of the fear the infected hold for _them_.) But the Infected (who rather likened themselves to Vandiri – their own butchered version of _Wanderer_ ) did not want to bother the Purity. They stayed far from the Purity’s cities and roamed the hinterlands in relative peace (at least, until the next Cleansing).

One individual in particular rose up among the Purity. Hair white as snow, eyes a cold quicksilver, he was ruthless in his proposal of a bioweapon: their own Infected, soldiers willingly Infected to infiltrate the hinterlands and devastate the Infected population.

And so, the Mercury Program was founded.

The Mercury Program touted that volunteer soldiers would be lauded as heroes, immortalized as explorers of an unknown technology and warriors against the Infection. Except, volunteers didn’t know what they were volunteering for, so few people signed up.

The founder had to come up with another idea. A building selected at random and its inhabitants forcefully turned into volunteers (teachers would probably refer to it as something like ‘voluntold’).

Unfortunately, that didn’t work out as well as the heads of the Program had thought it would. Most died within hours, some did go to the testing centers, and a few of them disappeared to the outside of the dome.

The second plan met with far more success than the first, but it took months’ and months’ worth of preparation.

It’s around this Phase Two that we begin.

 

Sawada Tsunayoshi lived an unremarkable life. Tsunayoshi wasn’t the luckiest of Purity kids. He was remarkably bright, but exceedingly clumsy, and textbook learning had never been the easiest for him. He tested poorly, but did well when it came to putting theory into practice. Friends were hard to make, harder to keep. Many just used his kindness for their own ends. Most got him in to trouble with the law. He was something of a regular fixture in the office of one platinum blond police worker, by no fault of his own (unless you count his unrelenting kindness his fault).

He never stayed in one place too long, as his parents had left him at a young age, leaving him to be bounced around the system from family to family for quite some time. Each family sent him back, claiming he was either too much of a smartass, too clumsy, too troublesome, too meek, too _whatever_.

Eventually, he just… Stayed in the office. Sort of. He’d go home with the blond police officer after shift. He must have been about thirteen years old when the officer officially took him in – much to the surprise of the officer’s raven haired son (and what Tsunayoshi assumed to be a raven haired lover, soon to realize that he had apparently gained two-ish father figures in one go, but not quite a brother).

It took a long while for Tsunayoshi to get used to living in a home again, not just someone else’s house temporarily. Between his blond savior’s stern affection and the raven adult’s doting, he was slowly learning how to trust again. His trouble with the law ceased shortly after being taken in.

There was also the matter of the new family’s son. He was quiet, mildly ill-tempered, but surprisingly protective. Tsunayoshi found himself following the family’s son around, eager to learn how to be confident and self-assure, with a strong air that no one wanted to mess with.

(At thirteen, he refused to call the other his brother.)

They were sort of an unorthodox, eccentric family unit. The raven son never referred to the blond or the raven adult as his parents. In fact, he barely addressed them. The two adults never exactly referred to each other by name, either. The raven called the blond ‘Angel’ and the blond called the raven ‘ _mon cheval_ ’ (whatever _that_ meant). ‘ _Cheval_ ’ always called Tsunayoshi ‘ _cincillà_ ’. He wasn’t sure what that meant, either, but it always made the raven-son smirk (he never smirked when ‘Angel’ and ‘ _Cheval_ ’ called him _uccellino_. ‘Angel’ called Tsunayoshi by name, which was more than _uccellino_ did.

 

It really took a whole year for Tsunayoshi to _actually_ learn the names of the family that took him in. But, if you were to ask him now, six years later, he can only recall the name of one – the one always referred to as _cheval_. Of course, it’s hard to forget the name of someone who still lives with you at twenty years old.

Yes, Tsunayoshi was still living with Niccolo Cavallone, who had, admittedly, lost a lot of his cheer around four years ago when Phase One of the Mercury Program went into effect. Not that anyone knew it was really the Mercury Program, as the media claimed the building gassings were the work of Infected that had infiltrated the City.

Tsunayoshi was sixteen when Phase One went into action. One of the buildings gassed was the building Niccolo’s ‘Angel’ was in. No one knew where _uccellino_ had disappeared to.

Tsunayoshi was sixteen when he lost the one that took him in and the one that made him strong. He still had the one that protected his kindness, but that protector lost his luster. His Angel and his _uccellino_ were missing, presumed dead. All he had left was his _cincillà._ He would protect that with the rest of what he had.

Except, four years later, in the current time, Tsunayoshi was spreading his wings. He’d been working toward a degree, and his hard work had started to pay off. He received an internship that was supposedly highly sought after. He was so proud he nearly jumped off the apartment balcony for sheer _glee_. Niccolo was careful to make sure his bouncy, overexcited kid wasn’t able to _get_ on the balcony, thanks to that. But, he was proud. Apprehensive about letting his last family go, but proud. Niccolo thought his Angel would be proud, too. Hell, even their _uccellino_ might have been a little smug.

 

Tsuna’s excitement for the internship wore off quite quickly when he made it to the office where he would be working. With belated horror, Tsuna realized he’d walked right into a Mercury Program trap.

There had been rumors of the gassed buildings four years ago were actually part of the Mercury Program, but no one had any proof at all, and the media kept insisting that it was Infected terrorists.

Well, Tsuna figured he was about to learn the truth. Of course, he wasn’t about to disappear like Niccolo’s Angel and _uccellino_ had, no way. Quickly, silently, he pulled out his phone and sent a message to Niccolo - one he hoped his guardian for the past seven years would understand.

_Niccolo-san, the rumors were true._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I just realized like a day late that half of what I typed had gotten posted so I had to fix it uvu;;;;;
> 
> Also, updating on this might take awhile..... This really started as a thought I couldn't get out of my head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Sentinel is not amused and Tsuna realizes he's fucked.

The deeply wooded area not too far from the City’s walls exploded in noise. Claws struck wood with a dull clunking sound and a child cried, a woman shouted as a man clashed with the clawed attacker. The man was blond, had claws of his own, but nowhere near that of the other’s claws, and his hair was rather on the shaggy side, almost like a mane. The other was unmistakably the Sentinel. Wild, untamed charcoal hair and eyes the color of steel were the markers of the Sentinel, if one couldn’t discern his identity from his talons and unforgivingly harsh physical treatment.

Eventually, the two fighters are pulled apart by the woman’s sharp, practiced voice: **_“Enough!”_**

She had tawny brown hair with white feathers. Feathers hung behind her ears, as well. She had no claws or talons – but her nails were just sharp enough to get a point across. In her arms was a small child – jet black hair left in a fluffed up mop on his head. Bovine horns protruded out of his tangled hair, no doubt fused to his skull, born that way, perhaps. The small child wailed and sobbed, terrified of the Sentinel, fearful for his father.

The Sentinel paused at the woman’s sharp command, and lowered his outstretched arm to stare at her. The man he was fighting stepped away from him warily, his body bleeding from various claw marks.

“We are waiting here for newly changed Vandiri,” she began, holding her son tightly in her arms. “We were teaching them to survive and how to get around before splitting up. But we got separated and we decided to wait here for them.”

The Sentinel tilted his head, nodding slightly as if understanding, before shaking his head. He looked over his shoulder and gestured lazily toward the towering dome of the City. The woman followed his gesture, and her expression tightened. They were that close?

“Nana…” the blond man’s gruff voice interrupted them.

The woman – Nana? – waved her hand at him, dismissing his warning tone. “I understand. …Thank you. The three of us shall take our leave, then.” She turned to her husband, intent on leaving with him and her terrified son. Except, the man was gone. She sighed, knowing this would happen eventually. Turning her head back to the silent Sentinel, she spoke again: “If you see any new Vandiri, please send them to safety.”

The Sentinel narrowed his eyes – sending the child in Nana’s arms into another terrified wailing fit – as if he was offended that the woman make a request of him. No Vandiri has ever made a request of him that didn’t involve “please stop” or “don’t hurt me.” He grunted and begrudgingly nodded. It wouldn’t do for Vandiri to die on his watch – at least not by Purity hands.

The brunette woman smiled, nodded her thanks, and took her child off deeper into the jungle.

 

_Niccolo-san, the rumors were true._

The text message was short, and Niccolo knew it was hurried. Fear seized his chest and his hand trembled around his phone. It was happening again. He was going to lose the last of his family to the Mercury Program. No. His fingers flew across the touch pad of his phone, a hasty reply.

_Tsuna, get out of there. Please, cincillà._

He waited, breath bated, for his kid’s reply. Say what you will – Tsuna may have come into his and his Angel’s family at thirteen, Tsuna was still his kid, problems and all. Hell even his Angel’s – Alaude’s, he reminded himself, not his Angel anymore, still missing for six years – kid wasn’t strictly his. From Niccolo’s understanding, the poor kid had been dropped at Alaude’s office by a wayward mother. Imagine Niccolo’s surprise when his Angel stepped through the door with an infant in arms. Alaude explained to Niccolo that the woman was a former lover but left him upon finding out she was pregnant. It didn’t matter, anyways – little Hibari was his just as much as he was Alaude’s.

Ah, he missed them so much. He missed the arguing between his Angel and his little bird. He missed waking up next to Alaude. He missed Alaude gently reprimanding Tsuna and helping with homework.

His phone buzzed in his hand. Now was not the time for reminiscing like this.

_Can’t. Too late, they already know I’m here. I’ll look for the other two._

Niccolo huffed at his phone, brows furrowing. He shouldn’t be surprised – it took Tsuna a year to learn their names. Why shouldn’t he just forget after Alaude and Hibari disappeared? People disappeared on him before, so willingly forgetting their names was nothing. And it’s not like Niccolo mentioned them often – speaking their names out loud tugged at old wounds for the raven.

_Your safety is more important. Get out._

Niccolo chewed his lip, anxiety curling in his stomach.

_Guard is coming. Stay safe._

The raven growled at his phone, almost tempted to throw it somewhere. But what if Tsuna kept in touch?

 

Tsuna saw the guard long before the guard saw him. A good thing, too, as it gave Tsuna time to delete his message history and remove the data card from under the battery. He tossed the data card in a nearby trash bin and replaced the battery in his phone.

The guard accosted him then.

“What are you doing here, kid?” The guard’s voice was gruff, irritable. Tsuna quickly pulled paperwork from his bag before he could anger the guard further.

“I’m here for the internship…?” The brunet offered, blinking almost innocently.

The guard just harrumphed at him, taking the paperwork. Reading over it, he nodded slowly. He gave the papers back before gesturing at Tsuna’s phone. “Tch, well I guess since you’re a new kid, you didn’t know that this is a no cell phone zone. I still have to confiscate it. Rules are rules. Sorry, kid.”

Tsuna gave a sheepish smile and handed over his phone to the guard, glad he’d erased the data that he could. Maybe he’d be lucky and the guard would just incinerate it or something. No evidence. Niccolo would be safe that way.

“I’m sure I can get another phone from my dad anyways…” Tsuna supplied to the guard, as if trying to convince himself this wasn’t a Mercury Program trap, that he could go home tonight after a day of work.

“Sure, kid.” The guard nodded, agreeing easily. “Anyway, since you’re the new intern, you’ll have to come this way – boss man wants you ASAP.”

“Okay.”

 

The halls were empty, stark white. Sterile, even. The hospital-like feel made Tsuna very uncomfortable. He was realizing that there was no hope for him now. Poor Niccolo, losing everyone he loved this way. Tsuna wished he hadn’t gotten this internship. He felt like he should have known this would be the outcome. But, what’s done is done. It can’t be helped.

The guard escorts Tsuna to a room filled wall to wall with water tanks. Most are empty, but one in particular catches Tsuna’s eye. The occupant of this water tank was a man – an attractive man – with long navy hair that spread around him, free-floating in the water he was suspended in. Briefly, and completely inappropriate for his situation, Tsuna wondered what _uccellino_ would look like today if he hadn’t disappeared with Niccolo’s Angel four years ago. Probably really attractive. More so than this pitiful captive in a water tank. Tsuna shook his head. Not the right time to be imagining things. _Bad Tsuna. Bad._ The guard looked at him.

“What are you shaking your head for, kid?”

“Oh, I… Was just wondering what my job as an intern is going to entail…?” Tsuna supplied weakly, eyes involuntarily shifting back to the navy haired prisoner. The guard followed his gaze and narrowed his eyes.

“That’s not Purity, kid. You don’t need to worry about him. Boss man found him slinking just outside the wall, trying to sneak in.”

Tsuna just nodded. That was unusual, though. Infected usually stayed far from the walls, too afraid to get any closer. Oh well.

Farther into the room, there were cages stacked on top of each other. Each cage held an animal: dogs, cats, birds, raccoons, reptiles, even amphibians. He realized _exactly_ what this is. The guard wanted to play it as a “holding cell” for Infected infiltrators, but no. Tsuna was not a stupid man. On the contrary. He understood that this was a testing room.

The only exit, though, is behind the guard that escorted him here.

Unbeknownst to him, the captive Infected’s eyes slid open, observing the brunet and the guard. The guard doesn’t notice either, as he was busy focused on the brunet bolting away from him. The guard reached out to grab Tsuna, subdue him while the boss man took his sweet time. But, Tsuna slipped under his arm. The brunet had a childhood of avoiding bullies and escaping those larger than him – and a teen-hood of a raven bird’s brutal “training.” He knew how to get away from burly, aggressive men like this. It was ingrained in his body after a lifetime.

Tsuna swiped his foot at the guard, knocking the burly top-heavy man off balance. The guard stumbled and fell onto the tile floor while Tsuna fled the room, closing and locking the door behind him. He had to find a way out – knew he couldn’t take the way he came in, as someone would shortly be informed and he wouldn’t make it to the entrance before more guards showed up. Plus, it would give him time to look for Niccolo’s family. Maybe he’d get lucky.

Psh. Yeah right.

Room after room, hallway after hallway, and Tsuna found nothing. No sign of the blond that took him in nor the raven that made him strong. He should have figured, really, but there had always been that tiny seedling of hope in his heart. They took him in and cared for him, after all, even when no one else would.

But, alas, no sign of them in this sterile hospital-like office building.

He was about to give up, round a corner and escape through a window when a sharp pinch hit him in the side. Tsuna winced and looked down. Grunting, he pulled the dart out of his skin and tossed it aside. He tried to keep running. He pushed himself as far as he could. But, that exertion worked against him. All too soon, his vision faded and all went black.

The last thing he saw was a man with a tranquilizer rifle propped on his shoulder, a smirk on his face. A man with a mess of white hair and cold quicksilver eyes, a purple tattoo under one of them. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Niccolo is grief-drunk and reminisces. And Tsuna goes through Hell.

It’s been days since Niccolo last heard from Tsuna. For three days, Niccolo couldn’t find it in himself to stop pacing around the far-too empty and the far-too big apartment. Alaude would have already been out the door by now, cursing up a storm and planning on getting their son back. But, Alaude wasn’t here anymore. He disappeared six years ago. There was no Angel to fix the mess.

Hours later, Niccolo’s legs complained about overuse and he had to sit down. Gracelessly, he flopped into his recliner, elbows on his knees and face in his hands. He would not cry.

He cried enough when Alaude and Kyoya disappeared. He cried enough to last him a life time. He cannot let himself cry now. He will not. He wanted to. Oh how he desperately wanted to cry – his last family, the rough-around-the edges little orphan Alaude brought home from the precinct, is gone. But, Tsuna had always kept him from crying after the initial disappearance. Well, after he’d cried so much he lost his voice. That was about when Tsuna would redirect his emotions elsewhere; to pride, to love, to gentle scolding over school.

It was a kick in the ass to realize that Niccolo had suddenly become a single parent. But, he did okay, once he finally recovered from the grief. He’s still not fully recovered, but it was enough. It was enough to take care of Tsuna (never mind that Tsuna had to take care of _him_ ).

Niccolo sighed, taking a sip of the drink in his hand. He went farther down memory lane – he had nothing else to do. Especially not while he was _almost_ piss drunk. Besides, with his remaining family gone, who could he go to? He used to be a popular, outgoing guy with a lot of friends, yeah, but that changed when Alaude and Kyoya disappeared. He’d become a shadow of the man he’d once been – quiet, reclusive, unless he was with the brunet he’d raised.

He missed them. He missed them so so so so so so so much that it hurt and his heart ached and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. And it hurt so much worse now that Tsuna had been taken from him, too.

It felt like just yesterday Alaude brought the scrawny kid home from work. Niccolo had recognized him immediately. The poor kid looked haggard, nervous, and frustrated. He was skittish, too. Jumped every time he was addressed directly. He was like that for a whole month before he finally settled in and got used to a home. In fact, Niccolo was amused to recall that Tsuna had gotten so comfortable in their home that he was even daring enough to instigate Kyoya. Or try to, at least. Most of the time, Kyoya just sort of ignored Tsuna, but that never stopped the brunet from trying. Apparently the kid had craved attention but had always hidden away so he _couldn’t_ have it. Niccolo had asked Tsuna about it once, and it was apparently safer that way – hiding.

But, Niccolo was proud to find that Tsuna was no longer hiding. He was opening up and becoming an active part of their family. He and Kyoya studied together, all of them ate together. Tsuna even helped with chores and dishes (while Kyoya disappeared off somewhere, though Tsuna was always able to find him later). It was a shame, that Tsuna could never remember Kyoya’s and Alaude’s names after they’d disappeared. It hurt, but Niccolo honestly couldn’t blame the kid. In the beginning, they hadn’t known what had happened, and Tsuna probably felt terribly abandoned. Especially by Kyoya, whom he’d admired so much. God, he missed them so much. He wanted them back so desperately it ached at his heart.

_He would see them again, even if it killed him. He swore it._

 

For days (weeks? Months? He lost track), Tsuna had been the subject of experiments. These dreadful experiences ranged from mildly uncomfortable to excruciatingly painful. The uncomfortable ones he could live with – general physical examinations to determine if the hellish injections of whatever chemical they used were working. Usually they were just measurements and check-ups to make sure that the injections weren’t affecting his overall health (they had actually hoped that they would be _improving_ his constitution).

The injections themselves were some of the most painful experiences he’d ever had. The needle was wide, not one of those tiny pin-prick needles used for vaccinations. The needles on the syringes were so large that Tsuna thought they rivaled those used for IVs. Thankfully for the brunet, these “conditioning” injections were only done once a week – sometimes twice a week. He wouldn’t have lasted if they were a daily event.

Some days the experiments would be achingly painful, but nothing he couldn’t handle – he’d basically grown up on the streets, and that wasn’t nearly as physically taxing as his year with a black-haired bird whose name he could not recall, whose face was a blurred haze in his mind.

He could handle the marathon runs in a sterile lab. Sure, his legs ached and his lungs wheezed, begging for air, but he could handle it. Climbing exercises were a little harder – he had no claws to keep his holding on the obviously fake trees in the testing center. He lost count of how many times he fell, but he’d always land on his feet (something he noted that the scientists would discuss happily).

Balance tests were something he struggled with. Vaguely (and this thoroughly confused him) he thought that it would be so much easier with a tail. And that thought distracted him (again). He wind-milled his arms to regain his balance, but it was no use. He fell from the balance beam and a sharp expletive left his lips.

Without thinking about it, the brunet pivoted himself in the air and adjusted his posture. He landed gracefully on his hands and feet, legs bent like he was sitting on his haunches. The scientists chittered excitedly over this. It was a real shame that none of the physical traits had shown up yet, but the instinctual ones were definitive and quite impressive (especially with the rate of development).

Now… If only those physical transformations would hurry up… The head honcho of the operation was growing impatient.

The tension and impatience became palpable a few days later. It didn’t take long for Tsuna to realize something was amiss, and his fears were confirmed when the scientists wanted to do daily injections, hoping that would increase the speed of the transformative process.

However, they only succeeded in putting their most promising experiment into a comatose state. Dejectedly, they wheeled their sleeping project into a room filled with water tanks. They set Tsuna up three tanks down from the blue-haired captive Tsuna saw the first day, when he tried to escape. The scientists left this out in their reports and carried on normally.

Well, as normally as they could with their star subject in an incubatory water tank. Two scientists in particular prayed to high heaven that their boss _would not find out_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long, and I apologize for the minimal quality, it _will_ get better, I promise. Also if anyone's willing to be my beta for any of my works that would be a really really lovely thing and I might cry tears of blessed happiness.
> 
> That being said, all mistakes are my own.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tsuna stays behind and Mukuro escapes.

Heterochromatic eyes slid open, blearily at first before blinking into focus. He was floating, suspended in a liquid tank, he remembered. He remembered a scuffle with the Sentinel before he got caught – remembered bitterly how that bird of prey had tried to _warn_ him and he hadn’t listened. He always fought with the Sentinel and thought it was just another trick to get the upper hand in a fight. Should have listened to him. Though, looking back, he probably wouldn’t anyway, just to spite the raven.

He also vaguely remembered waking up briefly to see a guard escort in one of his own, a member of Purity. So they were such monsters that they even twisted and transformed their own kind? Pitiful. So much for their name – _Purity_. What a fucking laugh. They were just as twisted and fucked up as everyone else. They just couldn’t see it, not being their name. _Purity_. If he wasn’t confined to a water tank and a breathing apparatus, he’d probably die from hysterical laughter.

Ah, right, he was awake again. This time, though, that scrawny Purity kid was three tanks over, sleeping like a lamb. Or so he appeared. But the Vandiri knew better – knew the Hell that kid had been through. His personal tank was probably chock full of high grade painkillers and catalysts. The Vandiri _almost_ felt pity. Almost. What he felt instead of pity was… Something the same, but different. A little bit of pride, perhaps.

The Purity kid three tanks over had impressed him, albeit mildly. Weeks back (maybe months?) the kid bit a guard and made a run for it. But, what surprised the Vandiri the most was that the kid took the turn leading _away_ from the exit from the door to the tank room. It was like he was _looking_ for something and imminent danger wasn’t going to stop him. He almost wanted to know if the kid found what he was looking for, but with both of them in tanks and one of them in a veritable coma, asking was impossible.

But, it was good to know that even some Purity had enough sense to run when in danger and fight to make flight a possibility. Now… If only _he_ could get out. He started to squirm in his tank – carefully, of course. He didn’t want the sensors to go off, or the water to slosh at the top of the tank. Nor did he want to accidentally bang the glass and alert the guards of his wakefulness. He was lucky that his tank didn’t have a brain activity monitor on it. Months of careful control of his body (and sleeping, too) made keeping such a thing a moot point as there was “nothing” for the scientists to monitor.

The Purity kid that had been experimented on, however, was unlucky. He _did_ have an activity monitor on his tank, so if he so much as blinked, the scientists would be all over him like vultures on carrion. For some reason unknown to him, that made him angry. What kind of people treated their own like animals to test on? His mission to get out of his tank became solid. It carried more weight than just getting himself out. He felt like he needed to get this Purity kid out, too. Because, technically, the Purity kid wasn’t even Purity anymore. By now he was far more Vandiri than he was Purity, and that made the brunet one of the Vandiri’s own.

Now, the heterochromatic-eyed Vandiri was as much a loner as every other Vandiri in the Hinterlands. In fact, he was even _more_ of a loner than most of them, _refusing_ to even associate with others (save two or three that he used to drop in on every once in a while…), but all Vandiri had some level of… Care towards their own. They were all in the same boat, after all.

Ah, there. Some of the restraints had come undone, and he was able to move more freely. Carefully he finished freeing himself from the wires, but now he had to get out of the tank. Luckily for him, the lid wasn’t secured very tightly, and he was able to lift it from the tank and shove it aside. Unfortunately, it made a loud clatter that got the guards’ attention.

Oh well, he was looking to spill some blood, anyways. He climbed out of the tank and pounced on one of the guards and broke his neck, despite his weakness from prolonged immersion. Weak, but still in control, he gracefully slithered through the room and swiped a scalpel from a nearby autopsy table.

Before a second guard could sneak up on him, he slit the guard’s throat. He did this repeatedly until all of the guards in the incubation room were lying dead in their own blood, save for the one guard whose neck he broke. He felt like the guard with the broken neck got off far too easy for his taste, and very nearly stabbed the corpse on principle. He didn't, of course, but he'd wanted to.

More important was the soon-to-be Vandiri kid still locked up in that liquid isolation tank. The adult Vandiri picked his way around corpses, approaching the comatose kid floating in suspension. He stood in front of the tank, head tilted to the side, as if contemplating how best to get a vegetable out of a maximum security compound. Carefully, almost hesitantly, he placed the palm of his hand on the Plexiglas tank and drummed the material with the pads of his fingers. Surprisingly, the kid's eyes slid open in response. Even more surprising was the fact that the activity monitors didn't start sounding alarms.

Still, the adult had to get the kid out. For some reason, he felt that the brunet was his new responsibility. Just like the three younglings he took in back out in the Hinterlands so long ago. They'd all grown up and left the nest by now, of course, likely attributing to his loner tendencies. But this brunet reminded him of them. He couldn't just leave the thing here to be experimented on more, to suffer more.

Just as he was about to tear apart the activity monitor and remove the lid from the tank, movement caught his eye. He looked up at the occupant of the tank, tilting his head again in curiosity. The brunet moved again, shaking his head. No? Why wouldn't the kid want help?

Perhaps the kid was warning him about other guards. In light of that possibility, the bluet looked around, checking to see if there were any new henchmen running around and trying to sneak up on him. Strangely, there was nothing. Then again, none of the alarms had gone off, either, so it shouldn’t have been all that strange.

Well, since there was nothing there, he went back to trying to get the brunet out. And, again, the brunet got his attention and shook his head. So the kid really was telling him to leave him. The bluet stared up at the brunet with the marigold eyes. How was he doing that? Staring at him and communicating with him without setting off the activity monitor. Again, the kid shook his head. This time, however, he glanced away, toward the door.

He was telling him to go. He was telling him to leave him here with the scientists and the machines and _everything_. He swore, and pounded his fist against the glass. What kind of idiot would stay behind to let him get a head start? This kind. Fucking Christ.

“Can you hear me?”

The brunet nodded, the marigold of his eyes illuminating the dark water.

“You _will_ make it to the Hinterlands. Do you understand?”

Another nod. His expression became panicked, as he glanced toward the exit again. Was the kid’s hearing better than his?

“You will make it there, and when you do, _find me_. Rokudo Mukuro is my name. _Find. Me_.”

The brunet nodded again, closing his eyes in assent as he went back to his act. Marigold no longer illuminated the darkness. Voices cut through the silence, and Mukuro knew that was his cue.

He was gone. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day my chapters will get longer than ~1.5k words. One day.
> 
> Today is not that day.

Guards poured into the tank room, searching for an intruder that didn't exist. The alarms never went off, as Mukuro had killed the guards before they set them off, but it only gave him a head start as the guards he'd killed never reported in, therefore, alerting the _other_ guards of a potential problem.

Tsuna remained as still as ever in his tank, careful not to alert the investigators of his consciousness. He kept his eyes closed, but somehow he was aware of the new guards' actions. Somehow, he _saw_ them sweep the room, understood that they were making sure nothing was taken during Mukuro's escape. He heard them converse in hushed whispers about the overwhelming sense of relief over the fact that Project 72 had not been taken.

The guards swept the room for planted incendiaries, stolen specimens and data, and eventually called for the clean-up crew. While they waited for clean-up to make it to the tank room, they inspected Tsuna's tank. Prints were smudged on the glass, one specimen in particular looking like it had to be the shape of the bottom of a fist. It looked like Mukuro had tried in vain to break Project 72's tank open.

Thankfully, he failed otherwise the Boss Man would have killed them off – or worse, turned them into his new experiments to replace the loss of Project 72. Which was a terrifying thought to even begin to entertain, as what was planned for Project 72 was nightmare fuel for even the most stalwart of Purity agents.

"Man, it's a great thing that Infected beast didn't run off with the boss's most prized experiment..." One guard muttered to another, visibly cringing over the very thought of what would happen to them otherwise.

"Fuck, don't even think about that, rookie, you'll have terrors for a week."

"I know, but think about how lucky we are," three rookie insisted. "If we had to take his place, we'd be begging for the barrel of a gun to end it all. This kid went through hell every day, it's no wonder he went comatose."

A third guard piped in, "No fucking kidding. The only real surprise is how long the best lasted before he wound up like this."

The second guard, apparently the oldest, grunted. "Keep talking like that and you'll be next on the chopping block, especially if Byakuran hears about it."

The other two guards swallowed, straightening up and finishing their jobs. Just in time, too, as the cleaning crew wheeled their fancy tools into the room. One of the cleaners cringed. "The fuck happened in here? Do we even want to giving know?"

"The Infected prisoner escaped." The rookie looked terrified. Would this reflect on their reports?

"Fucking Infected bastards." The youngest cleaner grumbled. "They make such a fucking mess, too. Uncivilized savages. Should just burn their precious Hinterlands to ash."

"Apparently Byakuran wants to reclaim that land for raw materials." The veteran guard sighed, as if he were talking to a child.

"Since when are we running low?" The rookie guard blinked.

"Exactly." A female cleaner rolled her eyes. "Byakuran and the upper echelon of society keep it a secret. They don't want you knowing that society will crumble and fail if we don't hurry up and wipe the Infected out and reclaim the Hinterlands."

"Well damn," the rookie whistled. "And Project 72 is supposed to accomplish all of that for us? Clean out the Infected and save us all?"

"That's the plan," the woman nodded. "I overheard they were going to undergo more physical conditioning when Project 72 wakes up. Things like instinct conditioning and combat training. According to gossip, this kid was one of those 'never hurt a fly' types, and the eggheads in the Science Division want to change that. They want to turn this scrawny toothpick into a ruthless killing machine. If you ask me, it's gonna blow up in their faces. And it's gonna blow up _bad_."

The rookie whistled again, louder this time. This kid was so easy to surprise. The cleaners and other guards shook their heads. Clearly Byakuran had stopped screening employees personally.

The whistle, though, had hurt Tsuna's newly sensitive ears. He flinched away from them, drawing back against the far end of his tank as best he could without tugging the wires. Unfortunately, his sudden movement lit up the activity monitor panel connected to his tank. It started beeping, alerting the nearby cleaners and guards of Tsuna's consciousness.

In a tangled mess, the cleaners disposed of the bodies and cleaned up the blood from the unfortunate guard that got his throat slit. The guards called the scientists, two of whom showed up in a flurry of excited chattering. It had been several months since Project 72 went comatose, so any improvement in its condition was a welcome change.

The third and fourth scientists were less enthused than the other two, and one of them wasn't even a biologist. It would figure that they'd send a mechanic down to make sure the tanks were in working order, especially since one was just broken out of.

The redheaded scientist checked over the panel and examined the experiment in the tank. His glasses were askew and he looked like he hadn't slept in days. Still, he was alert and taking detailed notes. He tapped the glass of the tank, waiting for Project 72 to respond to him. The experiment made what looked to be a sighing motion before opening his eyes and shifting closer to the redhead.

"Can you hear me, Project 72?"

The experiment nodded.

"Good. I'm Shouichi, Project 72. I'm going to do my best to take care of you, to make sure you're not in pain."

Project 72 rolled his eyes. This was the first time Shouichi introduced himself, but _definitely_ wasn't the first time that the scientists had promised their work to be painless. They didn't know pain. Not like he did. Not like Mukuro did. Still, Project 72 had to nod his assent. It seemed like Shouichi really meant what he said, and he made no _promises_. He just said he'd _try_ , and that in itself was something of an improvement.

Shouichi smiled and adjusted his glasses. He took down some more notes, before draining the tank and working on getting Project 72 out of the tank. He barely had Project 72 in his arms when he stumbled and they hit the (thankfully, now clean) floor. At which time, the mechanic started laughing. "Shou, how are you going to take care of Project 72 if you can't even take care of yourself?"

The Project had to agree with the mechanic on that one. Perhaps if the redhead scientist took better care of himself, they wouldn't have fallen. He doubted it, but it was a curious thought to entertain. The Project sighed, waiting for someone to help them up, as he found it difficult to move after being suspended in water for months on end. He didn't have to wait long, as the mechanic trotted over to the two of them on the floor.

"Thank you, Spanner." Shouichi sighed in relief. He then shooed the rest of the scientists, cleaners, and guards away. They were doing nothing but gossip girls anyways, even the men. He visibly relaxed when they were gone.

"No problem, Shou, but what are you going to do about Byakuran's pet project?" Spanner went back to fixing the tank Mukuro escaped from. Occasionally, he glanced back at Shouichi and the Project.

"I don't have a choice," Shouichi worried on his lip. "The guards and cleaners all know he's awake, I have to take him back."

The Project snorted quietly. He just _loved_ how they talked about him like he was both an inanimate object _and_ not present. He did, however, get some sick satisfaction when Shouichi jumped at his nonverbal announcement of his presence. Even Spanner was amused.

"...Do you have a name?" Shouichi asked Project 72, still worrying at his lip. "Something that you'd prefer over 'Project 72'?"

"...Tsuna." The Project croaked, disliking the sound of his own voice.

"Okay, Tsuna. We are going to do everything we can to help you." Shouichi's brows furrowed in resolution, his jaw set firmly.

Spanner nearly dropped his wrench, though. "What do you mean, _we_?"

Shouichi just ignored him, and led Tsuna from the tank room back to the lab proper where the new experiments and tests could be performed. They walked slowly, with purpose, as if performing a grim march of death.

And, to Tsuna, a death march was exactly what it was. He would come to regret the accident of allowing the guards to see him active, to regret trusting Shouichi and Spanner. He would come to wish he had died instead of surviving and becoming strong, becoming _Infected_.

  
  


At least, that is what his gut was telling him. And, his gut hasn't failed him, not yet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear god I am SO SORRY. I could have sworn I updated this, but apparently I hadn't, and I said I would after NaNoWriMo was over, _I'm so sorry!_
> 
> As I mentioned in a note on Even the Best Fall Down, I'll be working on my fanfics in rotation, updating every Sunday. Even the Best Fall Down is up for next week, and then Residuum again. Borderline WOULD be next, but I haven't given myself a buffer on that fic to work with yet.
> 
> I'M GETTING BACK INTO NORMAL PRODUCTIVITY, I SWEAR.


	6. Chapter 6

Shouichi's promise to _try_ to keep things as painless as possible went up in smoke within two hours of getting Project 72, now known as Tsuna, out of the water tank. Tsuna had expected _some_ degree of pain, as he needed to "reawaken" his muscles. He _knew_ that it would be painful, especially since it had allegedly been months since he'd been put in the tank in the first place. That was no big deal, he could live with that.

The actual test sessions, however, were Hellish beyond compare to anything he'd ever experienced as a lab rat. Once again, he underwent the reflex training from before he went in the tank, but with added intensity. He balanced on a beam hanging from the ceiling, though there was no safety net to catch him, and he was higher up than last time. If he fell, he had little hope of surviving. Not for the first time, he wished he had a tail. It would make this balancing act that much easier.

It got easier every day, though. As did his ability to swim, his ability to see in the dark, his ability to smell through mazes. He had to improve. If he didn't, he was subject to more painful injections, though these weren't the same as the original doses of Infected DNA. These new injections were catalyzing agents and they seared through his veins and made his bones feel like molten lava. After the second one, he resolved never to have another and improved himself on his own.

This, of course, _delighted_ the scientists. They chattered on and on about how impressed they were over Tsuna's improvements without the catalyzing agents. The chittered about how best to improve him, what techniques to try next, all cheer and delight until they the clearing of Shouichi's throat silenced them. The redhead stepped over to Tsuna and examined him for any damage.

"I'm sorry, Tsuna..." He whispered when he got close enough. "I'm sorry... I'm doing everything I can..."

Tsuna resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He just shook his head. There was nothing Shouichi could do, anyways. Not anymore. The retraining was coming to an end, and all that was left was for them to throw live opponents at the brunet, teach him to fight and kill in a "kill or be killed" setting.

  
  


Project 72 was going to break. Shouichi could tell. Hell, even Spanner could tell. If retraining the Project – no, Tsuna – was Hell, then these combat training sessions were comparable to Tartarus. The poor kid was no older than sixteen, couldn't possibly be seventeen. And yet, there he was in the Plexiglas chamber fighting for his life. His opponents were all failed experiments, mutated beyond recognition, volatile and violent.

If Tsuna wanted to live, he had to be equally violent, yet cunning. He couldn't be that way, not for long. He was going to break, and it was going to happen soon. Shouichi observed as Tsuna took down yet another mutated beast (his third kill), not even worthy of the name Infected. He watched as Tsuna fell to his knees and mouthed apologies to the creature, and his heart clenched. He felt sick, and his stomach clenched further when the gate rolled up and another failure came barreling out of its cage and into Tsuna's combat chamber.

Tsuna barely had any time to rest before another monster was being sent after him. He rose shakily to his feet, claws igniting to the color of sunset, eyes a blazing shade of marigold. He took his fighting stance, but his legs shook with the effort. Still, he did not falter. He held his ground even as he shook with strain it took. The failed experiment came lumbering at him at a slow, but quaking pace. The shaking of the ground didn't make it any easier for Tsuna to keep steady.

Once the monster was within striking distance, it stopped. It stared at Tsuna, evaluating him as much as it could with an underdeveloped brain. When it decided it was finished, it opened its mouth wide, letting out a deep, timorous roar that spewed saliva all over the lanky brunet. Tsuna shuddered, wiping drool and goo off his body, face contorted with a mix of disgust and nausea. Gross.

The brunet looked back up at the beast and took his turn to study it. It no longer held any resemblance to the human that it most likely once was. It was too big, limbs stretched and torso bulbous. Its skin was leathery, littered here and there with bumps, and its face was distorted with a hanging, dislocated jaw. It must have happened when the creature roared at Tsuna.

Tsuna sighed. He didn't want to fight this thing. He pitied it, empathized. He knew that he too could have wound up just like the beast before him. It was by pure luck that he hadn't. Unfortunately, if Tsuna didn't fight it, it would kill him. Or worse, the scientists would punish him with more catalyzing agents. If he took another one of those, he'd likely die anyways.

Besides, it looked like the beast wasn't going to wait for him to decide which fate he preferred. It swung a long, whip-like arm at him, crying out in a rage. Tsuna didn't have time to retake his stance as he dove out of the way, rolling underneath the beast and taking advantage of its backside. If he had to, he would at least make it as quick and painless as possible, a kind of euthanasia. Or, at least he would try.

The beast trilled in surprise as it missed its target. It tried to look around, but it couldn't move its head well enough, so it swung its torso to search out its meal. Tsuna shifted as it shifted, avoiding detection as he backed up. Once he was far enough away, he dashed forward, putting all his weight on his toes before leaping, clawed fingers extended to grasp onto its furred back. He counted his lucky stars that the beast wasn't entirely leather skin and yellow bulbous protrusions.

Yellow-green fluid oozed from where Tsuna's claws dug in, and it burned the pads of his fingers. Hissing, Tsuna retracted his claws and gripped the fur as he scrambled his way up the thing's back, aiming for its neck. The experiment became aware of Tsuna's location and thrashed its body around, trying to throw him off. Tsuna held on tightly, continuing to crawl up the creature's back. Soon, the creature began to grasp at Tsuna's tiny body with meaty hands and long, sausage fingers. To avoid its potentially bone-crushing grabbing, Tsuna pressed his body close to the creature's back, lying flat between its shoulder blades. It howled in frustration when it couldn't tear the brunet from its back. If it couldn't grab him, it would take a different course of action: ram its back against a wall. The creature circled the chamber for the best vantage point to shove its back against a wall that would do the most damage to the parasite on its back. Tsuna had a very small window of time to finish this before he was effectively turned into a pancake.

The brunet snarled and scrambled up rest of the way to the creature's neck. He engaged his claws and steeled himself for the burning sensation that the creature's blood caused. Balancing himself precariously on the charging creature's shoulders, he dug his claws into its throat, raking the leathery skin open. Acidic blood gushed from the parallel wounds and the beast staggered. Tsuna repeated the process with the other side of the experiment's neck, to finish the fight. More blood spurt from the severed jugular, and the beast staggered backwards few steps before falling backwards.

Tsuna leaped from its shoulders and rolled to the ground, howling when he splashed through the acidic blood pools. The acid burned through his clothes and licked at his skin, leaving horrible, stinging welts. Tsuna whimpered as he staggered to his feet, trying to brush acidic blood off his skin. Failing that, he pulled off the uniformed shirt he'd been given, flinging it off his sore and aching body.

A voice he'd never heard before filtered into the chamber via some sort of speaker system, Tsuna didn't know where. Everywhere, maybe. “Well done, Project 72. We have one more test for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Camp NaNoWriMo is coming up. I think I'm going to use it to get ahead in this fic. I'm still going to try to alternate weekly updates, though, so next week Even the Best Fall Down gets its next update. c:
> 
> Also it's no longer spring break which means I actually have to get back to work on school things, too. :c It was a lousy spring break, too. Snow everywhere ugh. I'm so done with all the snow, I s2g.


	7. Chapter 7

The ground shook. Slowly, Tsuna turned around, facing the origin of the quaking. Color drained from his face as yet another beast hauled itself into the chamber. This one was different, though. This monstrosity still had a face. Distorted and mutated, but a face all the same. A golden, shabby mane hung disheveled from its neck and fine white fur covered it's body. There were patches of gnarled skin where no fur hung, evidence that it had been attacked or had chewed itself to bits. Its thin, long and tufted tail was beaten and gnarled, chewed up in places. Its mutated face still carried emotion beyond pain and rage. Its eyes were still human.

Tsuna's heart ached for this new beast, even before it collapsed in the chamber, useless for everything but death. The brunet knew exactly why this pitiful creature had been sent into the chamber. This was the last test that unknown voice had told him about. This was the final test of combat prowess. Except, it was no longer combat. This was a test to see if Tsuna – Project 72 – could kill a creature that was already on death's door. This was the test that would make Tsuna the powerful, merciless creature the Mercury Program wanted or the test that would break him and render him completely useless to the Program. He dragged his aching body over to the thing, knelt next to it and watched as the creature shifted its head just enough to stare at Tsuna's tiny form. Those tortured, soulful eyes begged for an end to the creature's misery, but Tsuna just couldn't do it. He couldn't kill something...

_You've already killed four of these creatures._

No, he couldn't kill one that was _not_ attacking him. He couldn't kill one that looked so... Human. Well, human if only in the eyes.

 _You've still killed four living beings_.

It was self-defense...

_Murderer._

They had no humanity left... I would have died...

_Whatever helps you sleep at night._

I don't sleep at night...

Tsuna reached out to touch the mangled beast. It didn't move, didn't flinch away or lean toward the brunet's hand. It just stayed there, still and in immense pain, waiting for Tsuna to end its misery. Tsuna couldn't, though. He couldn't bring himself to kill something so innocent, so... Human... Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes, which still burned marigold from his previous life-or-death fights. The marigold color finally burned out, dulling to brown and made murky by tears. He couldn't take this life.

The beast finally leaned into Tsuna's hand, its throat rumbling softly. Tsuna couldn't tell if it was a plead for mercy or a reassurance that Tsuna could do it. But he couldn't. Tsuna shook his head rapidly, flinging tears in every direction. A few salty droplets _plinked_ onto the beast's head. It rumbled again, not a plea but what was almost like soft laughter. _Familiarity._ Such familiarity struck Tsuna deep into his heart, made his blood run cold. He knew this creature. From before the creature _was_ a creature. But... How did he know? Where did he meet him...? The shock had dried his tears, and the beast gave a pleased rumble in its throat, as if that had been the end goal the whole time.

“Project 72, we're waiting.” The voice that Tsuna hadn't recognized had become both threatening and flamboyantly flighty at the same time. The effect was eerie, chilling Tsuna to his bones even more so than the ice in his blood from recognizing, somehow, the beast he was supposed to put out of misery.

“Byakuran...” Shouichi's voice. Tsuna recognized that one. “Byakuran, you'll break him and we'll have to start over... We don't have the resources to start over... Or, by your own words, time.”

Tsuna narrowed his eyes and looked up. The murky, tear-addled brown flickered into enraged marigold for half a second as the brunet looked around, above the walls of the chamber to the Plexiglas observation areas, searching for the one called Byakuran. The origin, the progenitor of this merciless, inhumane program.

“Dear Shouichi.” 'Byakuran' hummed, caring little for the redhead's logic. “You underestimate our pet Project 72.”

Byakuran poked and prodded at Shouichi's instrument panels, only to have the redhead slap his hands away. He laughed, flighty and playful, patting Shouichi on the back as he returned to peering out of the observation area. He locked gazes with Tsuna, and smiled. There were no teeth in the smile, and to someone who was unfamiliar with Byakuran, it would seem gentle and friendly. Shouichi shivered, glad that he wasn't in the receiving end of that smile. It meant the punishment of pain and suffering to those that defied the white haired tyrant. Tsuna, however, was the recipient. But the small brunet on the testing floor did not flinch. The little artificial Infected met that bone chilling smile with his own stony gaze, eyes burning in anger.

"Clock's ticking, Project 72." Byakuran chided, waving cheerfully down at the experiment whose name he never bothered to remember or even acknowledge. "Better hurry up."

A growl rumbled in the back of Tsuna's throat, a sound that he'd never made before. He bared his teeth, which had sharpened ever so slightly in the course of the months of experimenting, much like a young kitten's. The sight made Byakuran's lips curl back in sick satisfaction. The little project was turning out to be quite the success, wasn't he? Byakuran rather enjoyed the progress his pet project was making. The little brunet had progressed by leaps and bounds, much faster and much more stable than any of his other attempted experiments. Still, he was raw. Lacked refinement. Byakuran had grown impatient with the refining process. “Tick-tock, little pet. Kill it or I make it kill you.”

Tsuna clenched his jaw, one fist balling in anger while the other clenched around a patch of fur on the beast he was still touching. The beast didn't seem to mind, not really. In fact, it seemed to even encourage Tsuna's reaction, nudging into him ever so slightly. Tsuna could almost taste the encouragement. He pulled his attention away from the monster that created them, focusing instead on the beast he was familiar with The beast he was supposed to be killing. The beast met his gaze before glancing at one of the chamber gates. Tsuna followed that gaze, and blinked in confusion before he understood. Ah.

The beast staggered to its feet and stood to its full, rather impressive height. It was still in pain, but it had purpose now. It wasn't just lying around, waiting to die. No, it had a reason. Again, purpose. It couldn't remember the last time it had purpose. Perhaps when it was still human. How long ago had that been? It didn't know. But it knew what it had to do now. It had to get the little brunet – did this project have a name? Unlike all the others? Unlike it? Did it have a name once? It didn't remember. There wasn't time. They needed to escape.

The brunet, as if aware of its thoughts, climbed onto the beast's back, using his claws for purchase. He whispered apologies every time he drew blood as he ascended, but the beast didn't seem to notice. Once Tsuna was secure on the beast's shoulders, with fingers securely wrapped up in its spider-silk mane, the beast surged forward. It rocketed toward the chamber gate, intending to use its own body as a battering ram. Tsuna crouched low into the creature's mane as it lowered its head and threw its shoulder into the gate.

To everyone's surprise, the metal gave way and broke apart, allowing the rebellious experiments to break through. The crash set off the alarms, deafening those in the observation deck and all but paralyzing Tsuna with his newly sensitive ears. At least it locked his fingers in place in the mane and his body kept tucked tight against the creature's neck. The cacophony was unbearable, Tsuna felt like his ears were bleeding. He swore he could feel blood trickle down his skin from his ear, but was frozen in place so he couldn't life a hand to check. Not that he would have dared, even if he had the freedom of movement.

Byakuran barked orders, get them under control, sedate them, kill the beast, _I need Project 72 alive!_ But, the alarm drowned out his voice. Employees and guards scurried about trying to get things in order again. The only one who remained relatively calm was Shouichi, who had decided that panicking would do no good and instead focused on his instrument panel.

He focused on making sure the remaining gates remained open for Tsuna and the feral beast despite the alarms. Byakuran didn't know anything about computers, at least, not Shouichi's computers. It would be easy, telling him there was a malfunction in the system when the gate went down.

Well, it was easy, in theory. Shouichi always had a difficult time lying to Byakuran.

But he was about to get a _lot_ of practice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After next Sunday, you get a few weeks of Even the Best Fall Down while I keep working on Residuum for April's Camp NaNo.
> 
> I'm excited to get it finished (mostly for you guys!)


End file.
